Radiation sickness
by Agrofenlas
Summary: <html><head></head>Things were bad enough, until this psycho wandered in. Follow Lynx as he starts his journey and spree across the Mojave in this slasher fan fiction.</html>
1. Chapter 1

Radiation Sickness

A Fallout New Vegas fan fiction

By

Agro Fenlas

A note to the reader:

This fan fiction contains extremely graphic passages that may include but are not limited to blood, gore, torture, murder, homicide, suicide, dark themes, drug use, alcohol use, tobacco use, strong language, sexual themes, sexual assault, rape, and other mature themes. Read at your own risk.

Chapter 1: Dead Beat

There he was, walking down the long I-15. That tired soul wander through the waste thought he'd reached the end of his rope. From the blood on his clothes, anyone who took a glance at him would have said the same, the red now dried liquid caked into the shoulder and side of his jump suite, the grey material now a deep brown. But, not all of it was his. Only from the now closed bullet hole in his shoulder did this lean mans blood leak out, the rest that lay splattered on his clothes from someone else.

In the distance, from under those curled dark locks of hair he spied salvation though, just as the sun started to set. There were lights, statues of two men that seemed to tower in the distance. That was where he was headed, his blue gaze locked on his destination. But his feet wouldn't carry him that far, legs shaky, body refusing to keep its pace as he slowed to a limping crawl and finally collapsed into the dusky pavement, hand outstretched and reaching for what he couldn't seem to obtain.

As his vision faded, his breaths swallowing out, there came a sound. It was familiar to him, the sound of Brahmin hooves against pavement. It was a caravan, walking his way, no doubt to take back the stolen good from the last caravan he'd torched and left to rot in the mid day sun. Or maybe he was wrong, maybe the one time he'd expected to die he was wrong, not even able to laugh at the situational irony of being picked off by the same suite of victim he'd chosen to pray upon not to long ago.

His eyes wouldn't open, his wounds still in need of treatment, his mind set on the premise of his death, this man wanted to give in as his body started to shut down and the caravan approached. A voice rang out though, someone he'd never heard, someone who hadn't seen or heard of him. "What do we do with im?" The stranger from the blackness of his eyelids asked. "Load him up. Poor fella." A second replied before he felt himself being dragged, and not pavement but wood against his skin. They'd put him somewhere, a coffin, no he could still feel the heat of the sun on his back. He'd been loaded into a cart.

But that, that was as much as he could make out as his mind slipped from the waking world. Soon he was more than unable to move. Soon he was pushed to the limit and pressed into unconsciousness. Lady death, the reaper came to him while he slept, his morbid dream starting before he realized it. She would wrack his mind as did the deeds of his life. But this stranger wouldn't know it until it happened, even as the sun faded from his memory and he slept.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Just A Dream

He stood there, among the corpses of everyone he'd killed. The blood pooled, reaching to his knees in a swamp of horrid smelling liquid. Atop floated the lifeless bodies of raiders, merchants, citizens, troops, charred and unidentifiable pieces of meat. And into the vast darkness this kingdom of gore filled wake pressed, no light present save for the sight of the crimson tide, filled with entrails and the mutilated corpses of enemies and allies alike. But it was still, quiet, even as this dark haired stranger started his stride, slowly walking forward through the muck of this place.

There was no sound, only the silence that stilled each step. Then it came. The low sounds from far within the swamp. It would have horrified any normal man, these terrifying screams of death filled with the hollow laugh of an evil man. It seemed to even effect this man, eyes wide, frown glues to his lips as he reached up to trace over his own face as if he did not recognize it. His mouth moved, he tried to speak but nothing escaped those pale lips, blood steaks over them from fingers that trailed across his face. He was speechless, he was silent like the rest of this place.

And in the distance, a light. Not one of peace, at the end of a tunnel but something else. It was gunfire, bullets tearing through the open air of this place but no sound escaping as the screams grew louder. This made him stop, the sound echoing now as the stranger covered his ears and shook his head trying to scream to himself. Then they died, the sounds shattered behind a voice. The voice of a child pierced the silence, a young boy repeating over and over again. "Stop it. Stop it!" Those were the final cries before the place was silenced again, the strangers eyes clasped shut in anticipation.

And when he opened them again, he wasn't where he'd once stood. No, this man stood atop a pile of flesh, rotting, deceased copses were below him on this mound of dead beings. They were victims as well, some without eyes, leaking blood from the now empty sockets, and some of them were missing limbs, some of them flayed open, entrails spilled over the pile, organs falling slowly in the silence on this hill of broken bodies. He stood there though with no care, his eyes glued on what lied at the top of this mound, in the center of this destructive desolation.

A throne, a large chair with a solid back and armrests sat here atop the pile, his eyes fixated on the being in the simple wooden structure. It was a single skeletal figure, the flesh on its bones mostly rotted save for steaks of black locks and eyes that looked down at him from those mean looking sockets. In a dress of black, this pale figure sat there silently judging him before it stood. A whisper was heard, the skeleton not moving its jaw as it came closer. "This is your punishment, Lynx" It whispered through the air, pointing to him before this odd man started to bleed from his wounds, pain overcoming his body.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Awake & Alive

The pain was real, very real as the madman awoke in the dim conditions of a military rack, groaning as he rolled to his side letting his eyes adjust to the light so he could look around. And as he did the sight of a woman came to his vision, a white lab coat covered in his blood was there in front of him, this brunette kneeling next to his uncomfortable rack. She seemed to be examining him, taking his details down on a chart as she sat there on one knee. "You're awake?" The woman questioned.

His mumbled response didn't help her much, Lynx unable to catch his breath as the madman choked down the dryness stuck the back of his mouth. Though, this woman seemed to sigh in relief even at his response as she stood. "Good, I can go back to Nipton then." She mentioned and took off her lab coat, slinging it onto the rack across the row. "Tomorrow though." she seemed to murmur to herself as she went to lay down.

A quick assessment was in order since he'd woken, besides his dry throat, there were more aches on his body. The woman hadn't bothered even looking him over, so he'd have to make sure everything was in place Lynx thought to himself. And sitting up he nearly fell back to the bed, dizzy, disorientated. Feeling over himself, he was no longer in his clothes, most of his chest exposed save forth hole in his shoulder that'd been patched up. His legs were covered with military leggings, at least some one had bothered to patch and dress him.

Seeming to grow more aware, more awake, that insanity driven man rose from his bunk. He could hear the steps of soldiers, the laughs and conversation of others. This was obviously a public space. Still, his first priority was figuring out where he was. Better yet, who had brought him there. And wondering out lazily into the hall and down towards the bar he's greeted by friendly looking troopers. "Whoa there fella, you took a bullet." One of them says pulling down his face wrap.

Pushing him out of the way, the man grumbles with a sneer and just seems to disregard Lynx, apparently he isn't friendly enough to be helped. And it was true, he was on a mission that mad man looking about for a weapon. Though as he reached the bar, he noticed this was less of a military base and more of an outpost, his focus drawn to the woman at the bar, Lacy. And she didn't exactly look to happy with him, seeing as she'd witnessed his rude behavior.

Authors Note: Sorry the chapters are short! I'll be posting them at least once a week if I get to work on this though. Have sun reading.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Friendly Wagers

She started her sentence with a rough tone, that woman looking the madman in the eye, her abrasive nature coming off in waves. "Listen here. You don't walk into my canteen and start pushing people around." Lacey scolded, polishing a glass with the rag from the counter. All she'd gotten back though, was a sour look, those eyes agape with the sickening stare of a man who'd been through one to many fights. Though, she'd seen this the bar woman not wavering to his intimidation

Sitting down with a heavy thump at the bar on one of the stools, he didn't speak for a moment, only warranting her anger. "Did you hear me?" she asked, going to stand in front of him. Though, in truth he had only have taken in her words, splitting head ache coming over Lynx as he tried to focus. Looking up to her there was a moment where the resting look of hate faded from his face. "I heard you." He said with a raspy voice. "Now, how much is a water? A clean water." He choked down as the madman sat face to face with Lacey.

Lacey was frustrated, annoyed by how he was treating not just her but the people he'd encountered at the post, but felt as though she could change this. Her crass ways were put aside for now, the woman with a cocky smile on her face. "More than you can muster and some respect." She told him, that woman dancing the edge of his patients, Lynx with a short temper. But the psycho knew he couldn't take an entire outpost by himself and didn't even have the caps to pay for water at the moment. "Just tell me what you want." He nearly ordered, desperate for a drink.

The bartender had some mercy left in her, putting an irradiated water bottle down in front of him. "Think you're tough shit?" She asked and popped the bottle open with a laugh. "You go down to the Nipton pit stop. Heard it was taken over by Jackals a week ago." She told him a stern tone in her voice as she watched him start to guzzle down the dirty water. Every drop left the bottle before it was left there on the counter for her to pick up and refill. But he didn't seem happy about her words, despite her mercy. "And what?" He barked angrily.

"And bring me the head of that suna bitch, Chops." She retorted, a sly overtone under her breath as she almost knew he wouldn't or couldn't complete that task. "And I won't complain about your idiocy around here." Lacey finished, crossing her arms. Though, she didn't know he was up for something like this, the madman ready to annihilate something. "Dead by the morning." He said, the tone low, menacing as that steely blue gaze to her surprise. But she wouldn't have time to speak back at him as in nothing but his newly acquired boots and pants he trudged into the cold Mojave night.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: What A Mess

It wasn't long before the madman had left the Mojave outpost that he'd encountered something. But, it wasn't what he'd expected. At the bottom of the hill, that had been all but filled with rusting cars and old decaying trailers from cargo trucks was something familiar to him. A Brahmin, laying there dead in the sands, bleeding out onto the cold, dark sand. Along side it lay what appeared to be two corpses, one dressed in makeshift armor of metal and leather riveted together, the other in a travelers outfit laden with pockets and a coif to keep the sand out of their face. Though, that point was moot, the torn apart corpse without a head and lacking more then a few extremities.

They'd appeared dead, but one of them started to move, the caravans guard lifted a hand towards Lynx, tanned skinned female reached up a struggling voice calling out. "H-help." She stuttered, hardly conscious and bleeding from several places. But walking over towards her with a dull sort of jaunting stumble Lynx wore a dark grin on his face. There was something about this situation that pleased him, it gave off an aura of his dark nature. Perhaps this woman's plea for help was much more then she'd bargained for when she'd asked him for anything. Especially help.

"What a mess." He muttered, kneeling among the bloody corpses and over the woman who lay there, bullet holes and laser burns over her left arm and torso. She started out low, this mercenary. "W-we were rai-" She got before the psycho had grabbed her throat, his fingers pressed tightly to the soft flesh. "Don't you wine to me!" He demanded to the now choking woman, a look of curious bewilderment behind the fear that seemed to course from her green eyes, welling with the tears of both terror and pain, the red mark left by his hand more then enough to silence the young mercenary.

Even in the dark of night, only starlight to illuminate the situation, Lynx had no trouble seeing the pain, the stress he caused her. And he enjoyed it, that sick and twisted grin glued to his face as he started to squeeze the life force from this dying woman. Though, the thought came to him, he needed information, more then that he needed a release from both the cold and the stress of his situation. And so with a dark chuckle, his hand released her. "First, you'll tell me who did this." He started.

She coughed, but the breath came back to her the woman laying in the sand on the verge of death anyways, her brain pumping adrenaline, even if her wounds had stopped bleeding. "R-raiders." She choked out through a horse throat. Satisfied with that answer, Lynx still snickered. "Its to bad they didn't finish you off." He told her, blue eyes flashing with a notion of sadistic pleasure. This caused the fear in the woman's eyes to almost intensify as she tried to crawl back, hand struggling to keep her from him, simply to weak to do much. "No, no… P-please no." She cried, knowing what was to come, the look of desperation on her face. But, it was already over. It'd been over since he'd laid eyes upon the corpses and their possessions.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: To Pillage

It was to late for her though, Lynx looming over the woman his sadistic grin glued there as his hand reached out to snatch her short, cropped hair. His voice was dark, lacking mercy, his tone far worse then the mocking this woman had remembered from the raiders before they left her there to bleed out in the sand. And the psycho of a man before her could tell, he could tell exactly what it did to her, the deprived tone in his voice as he murmured quietly to her. "You think you should live?" He asked, head swaying with a curious almost snake like pattern.

All she could do was plea, tears her eyes, the look of desperation and sadness as he repeated himself, this time yelling into the cold, stale Mojave air. "Do you think you should live!?" The madman questioned to the shaking woman below him. But she couldn't speak, no words escaped her voice box, not a peep made it from her throat as she lay there. And this, this seem to only further anger this insatiable killer as he came close to her, his eyes meeting the woman's own dark hewed irises. "No answer, what's wrong, did they cut out your tongue?" He asked her before it began.

There he was with this woman in hand, the lone survivor of this attack on a caravan kicking and screaming weakly in his grasp as hands pushed at the man's uncovered body. But it was of little use, as she was loosing blood quickly, the sound of flesh on stone sounding. There he was, her head being slammed against the cold pavement he'd dragged her by the hair to, warm blood splattering over the road before the sound of bones cracking echoed through the wasteland. Before she lay there, not fighting back but twitching as her brain matter full of skull fragments was let out in a warm mess, her ears hearing his last words before the silence of death took her. "Pathetic."

Blood on his hands, hair still firmly held, the madman was satisfied as he didn't even bother to let go at first, hair torn from the bloody heap of a head he'd left with her body. And walking to the caravan, hand slowly uncurling to let the locks flow into the drifting wind, it was time to pillage what was left and move on to his task at hand. But the night was still young, the stars still shown and the moon not even halfway through the sky yet.

He had time, and he knew it, digging through the old crates and boxes strapped to the carcass of this beast they'd left dead on the side of the road. An old, rusted buck knife, a small steel mirror, clothes sewn from leather of tanned Brahmin hide. This was all that he'd found. But, it was better then nothing, the new set of clothes keeping his at least a little warmer as he took the jacket over himself and started walking. With his new knife strapped to his right thigh, his new leathers to cover him, and the mirror tucked neatly into his back pocket, He was ready for what he knew was ahead.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Approach

It'd been a short walk to the road stop, the signs along the highway a help to the madman, his slow walk in the cold not making him any warmer but the assured focus that he'd make the trip there driving him. Though, it would have been easy to find in the cold, stale night air. It was probably visible from quite a while away, the sound of hooligans and the sight of a bonfire in the distance giving off the Jackal camp from the edge of the long road that'd lead there as they howled into the desert, not a care in the world who'd heard them. They had no reason not to celebrate anyways, their trail left fresh from the caravan they'd raided, their breath left with the smell of booze on it from all they'd got off with that evening.

And as Lynx approached, giving cover behind one of the many dunes that rose outside the pit stop, his eyes came to meet the sight of their camp. Behind the mostly broken walls of this still standing front wall that lingered on the road to one side, there was a bon fire, the raging inferno with several people around it, hooting and hollering into the night sky as they raised a toast to their success. There had to be at least four of them, possibly five, as on the other side there looked to be several bed rolls that'd been laid out in the small building that stood only half there across the street. Maybe it happened to be a temporary camp.

Either way, it was where Lynx had to be, creeping down towards the camp as he gripped his knife in hand, the dull rusty blade perfect for what he was going to do. Now positioned half crouched behind the bricks, stones and mortar of this place, he had a closer vantage point the only thing between him and who he'd guessed was his target was an interior wall. And the madman was inching to tear through it, but he knew he had to be patient, as the night wasn't even half over and he had plenty of time to sink his teeth into a new kill before it would end.

In his patients, the wait had paid off, one of the men speaking to another member of the Jackal gang, their voices echoing slightly through the emptiness of the half standing building they resides in. "Hey, you know when the boss will be back?" This half clad raider said, turning to the woman he'd been drinking with, both of them obviously intoxicated on what ever beverage they'd taken from the stock. Though, it looked like beer, the mostly empty bottles sloshing in their hands dark brown, with pale liquid still residing in them. "Yea, ya fuckin' nut. He's right here." She responded, pointing across the camp. "Oh.", was this intoxicated man's only response, knowing his fault.

There he was, sitting there on the bench across the fire from where Lynx was watching. That viscous looking man with liberty spikes that lined his head, a nasty look always about his ugly mug. His name was Chops, though anyone who took one look at him could have told you that, the ink across his for head spelling it out in a brazen red. And below that, eyes set in deep sockets that seemed to scream even as the man sat there drinking the spoils of war, relaxing in his badlands armor that he'd always worn. Two tire shoulder pads, and a chest plate made from a hub cap, his bottoms looking like they might have come from a fire house. He was a menacing sight to behold, and by the end of the night, he would die.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Prowling

The wait was worth it, Lynx's patients rewarded. As he lay in wait behind the ruins of this torn apart structure, the couple of Jackal members he'd been listening to were headed away from the ruckus of the celebration, leaving only three left as soon as they took their leave. "Boss man, we're headed to retire." The ditsy male said, his arm swung around the shoulder of the woman. They were both intoxicated and it showed, the slur in their voices as they laughed together. "Means he's going to plow me." The woman said lazily, rubbing her bald shaven head as if it was a common occurrence. Though, it'd obviously disgusted the still sober 'Chops' who grimaced and flicked his hand as to dismiss them.

As they wondered off, drunkenly stumbling towards the other side of the road, the madman followed to the edge of the building he hid behind, his eyes watching them, a grin on his face. Though, as they reached the other side of the road another figure appeared to greet them. Some bandit looking man or maybe a woman in an arc elders mask. From this distance, between the drunken slurs and laughter it was hard to make out what was said however. Still, this wasn't going to stave off this psycho his pan all the more sinister as he crept quickly, heading across the street to take cover near the still hinged and cracked door of the building that hardly stood in front of the beds.

Sliding into the frame of the door behind where it'd been leaning, he was hidden waiting for that patrolling figure to pass. And that raider did, long coat in tow across the sands of the desert. Though, upon stepping just feet from where Lynx had passed the jacket and masked figure stopped and turned about. The madman nearly panicked, he couldn't be figured out now. It'd be one sided with six on one. And his fears were rightly placed, the figure kneeling next to the tracks he'd left a female voice ringing from inside the helmet. "The hell?" This cloaked female said looking at the tracks.

He had to act fast, nearly bursting forth from his hiding place, the woman wide eyed to see her assailant before his knee knocked against the steel of her arc light mask with a heavy thud of leather against metal and the crunch of bone being broken behind it, causing the woman to stumble backwards, cursing as blood dripped from under the dented steel of her facial cover. She was surprised, nearly unable to act and in a bit of a shock as the pain from his attack rang through her face. But she knew she needed to act, hand drawn to her hip where she'd had her gun.

However, the surprise and stumble had left her to late as she looked up for the madman, gun in hand a sharp pain jutted into her shoulder. The woman had been stabbed, arm falling limp as she felt the blade pierce her flesh the hot sensation burning as she was stabbed and the blade ripped from her, blood dripping from the wound he'd made. She was nearly in shock, her body hardly responding now even as his hand came to her throat, squeezing, taking the air from her as she tried to call out. But, it was all to late now, she'd practically been disabled at this point.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Victimized

With her throat squeezed, the madman's hand against it, she was pressed to the building with a low thud that could have been heard if not for the wild howls of party goers and the low moans of the two who'd sauntered off. Held here like prey there was limited air for this raider but she still fought near silently as her windpipe started to give out. A left hook was thrown at him, hardly even visible through teary eyes that gazed at him from the slit in her welders mask. But it connected, sending him into a small stumble that gave her a little bit of leeway. Not for long though, she knew she had to act or die.

Quick, but not quickly enough she clumsily dove for her weapon, her body reaching for it with the left that'd been bruised on contact with Lynx's face. She'd gone skidding onto her knees like this, shoulders to the ground, though as had he over her as he wrestled with the breathless girl, now down with her, grabbing for her left. Bending her left behind her back, she seemed helpless now, body geld off the ground with her knees against it, her right arm limp there as she struggled for breath. Though, this position was perfect for the madman as he worked at his belt with his right hand, his left wrenching her arm until a cracking sound was heard, pain overtaking the raider, her words nothing but nearly inaudible whimpers as she tried to goad him.

It didn't matter what she'd said though, he was going about his task, Lynx revealing himself behind her as he pulled at her long coat, the short skirt underneath not much of a deterrent. And as he heard him whimper, his voice came low, shoving her face into the sand as the red earth was pressed to her, in her mouth and nose, her eyes slashed with the dusty Mojave sand. "Shut up raider bitch." The psycho told her as he went about what he was doing, tearing the semi clean cloth panties from her legs, exposing her sex, those plump lips wet from the violence, sadistic pleasure coursing through woman no matter how much she fought at her insane attacker.

He didn't care for how she felt or the pain aching over her, Lynx was only concerned with his lust and with the sounds of a similar deep happening close by it was cover for the wet slapping sound of the first thrust that forced its way into the meagerly struggling raider woman. Her eyes went wide, or at least her left did, right squashed into the sand of the Mojave as she tried to cry out, her voice to hoarse. "No, stop." She said trying harder to escape as he pushed into her tight mounds, that throbbing member splitting the woman before him. He had no mercy, no care and she knew it though she fought, her body bleeding from the stab wound, her voice hardly able to escape her throat.

It would be minutes into this that she stopped even trying, his voice in a whisper, taunting her. "Keep fighting, little whore." He encouraged before she'd ceased being brutally fucking into a pool of her own blood that lay under her in the sand. He'd figured she'd succumbed to the wound and as he finished, letting out that hot load inside of her, the thick oozing cream dripping from her loins as she lay there in the cold night air, he didn't think he'd needed to finish her. But he was wrong, and wouldn't know it just yet, as the madman still had much to do. Five more raiders to kill and one to collect the head of, these were the thoughts that whirled about in his head now.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: In The Act

The other two raiders he'd left alone hadn't finished unlike the madman, they were noisy, vibrant in the sounds of their lust as it drifted off into the desert, the loud sounds of moans and groans, the eager noises of flesh on flesh. They'd all but ceased yet, but they would as Lynx approached. Neither of them heard his steps but the woman had caught a glance of that shadowy figure, the cruel rusted knife coming down on her lover. The blade piercing the man above her, the tip of tip exposed in the open air caused shock and panic to run through both the paralyzed raider who'd been stabbed and the raider girl below him.

Though, this wasn't the case for long. His body being tossed from the knife a call came from the woman's mouth as her lover was flung, gasping and gulping for air in the dessert as she scrambled upwards, grabbing for the worn looking rifle besides her. "Guys, get the fuck over here!" She managed as the weapon was lifted before Lynx pounced at the woman from his fresh kill. She wasn't caught unaware but he needed to down her quickly, the sounds of ruckus dying and the words of men nearby. "Hey, I think Vess is in trouble." One of the raiders at the fire was heard loudly.

He was to late, even being above her now as the weapon was knocked away and went off with a loud crack of gunpowder and pressure being released, the bullet flying off into the air haplessly as the weapon clattered to the cold sand. But, it didn't matter now, as Lynx was late to his kill even as his blade sank into her flesh with a loud yelp that permeated the air, the sound of footsteps in the night air that rushed towards where he crouched over his latest victim, the dull blade of the rusty knife he'd chosen sinking into her flesh over and over, the lacerations growing as the sadist took out the anger she'd given him on her.

And they found him, his arm headed back and fourth, his dull knife being jabbed into the lifeless corpse of their comrade, the sound and sight of the gore splattered body a vicious sight. They weren't going to have that, anger and spite flooding over the fear of these raiders, though they weren't used to something so sick and twisted. Chops wasn't there yet, and Lynx thought that he'd sent his lackeys just to check out the noise. If he could destroy these it'd just be the madman and his target. So raising from his latest victim, rifle scooped from the ground, knife in his other hand, he gave a viscous smile.

"You bastard!" One of the two screamed, standing there before he charged, the other leading behind. A pool cue was raised over head, the man intending to bash Lynx with the heavy end of it as it came down on him, only making him flinch, his knee budge slightly as the sound of breaking wood snapped the flimsy cue in two leaving his assailant nearly overwhelmed. And that look, the one of surprise was the last on his face as the rifle went off again, the old semi automatic rifle blowing a hole through the man before it was dropped in favor of the knife that came at the second, burying itself in his chest. It was over just like that, the feel of a cracked collar bone worth it.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Boss Man

With the small amount of injuries he'd sustained, he wasn't very damaged, the madman laughing to himself as the raiders behind him bled out, Struggling to stay alive. A chuckle into the open air gave way to his foot steps, walking towards the dimmed outline of the bonfire behind the broken building, rifle dropped behind him, that blood covered and gore splattered rusty blade still firmly gripped in his hand. And as he reached halfway across the sandy asphalt he say him, Chops. The raiders 'boss' was standing there, a mean look on his face, anger in his expression. It looked as though the tall, rough looking raider was trying to burn holes through Lynx with just a stare.

"You, just you did this!?" He snarled and cracked his knuckles, that large man rolling his shoulders as he looked at the madman before him. Lynx still had the fresh blood of his recent kills on him, letting off steam and slowly cooling in the cold Mojave air. He felt brilliant minus the injury to his shoulder. He felt empowered as he nearly screamed back across the road. "I did this, while you hid, you coward!" He called, as if Chops had sent his men in vein to fight for him, Lynx knowing it might wound his pride, knowing it would just rile the beast within the marauder.

And it did, it worked a little to well as the large, brutish beast of a raider drew from his side a nine millimeter hand gun and came at the madman, bullets tearing through the air, the hot lead flying before they met halfway. The psycho already had his knife drawn, and even with a bullet wound piercing through his stomach with a gun wrenching pain he managed to forage onward into combat as Lynx ran on the fury of the fight and the feel of the adrenaline rushing, coursing through his veins just as the crimson blood leaked from his mid section, enjoying every second of it.

And that's all he could focus on as his free hand knocked the gun from its aim, his knife coming down only to be met with the resistance of Chop's hefty fore arm, the sound and feel of hot blood spurting from the knife now lodged firmly between the bones of the raiders limb. And then, the wrenching as it was yanked, Lynx trying to pull the blade free before the rusted and brittle steel finally snapped. The heavy sound of twisting steel sounding before a few stray shots of panic were fired from chop's handgun, a final click signaling it was empty. But it was still a weapon, a wild swing crossing across the madman's right side of his face, leaving a red mark and causing him to stumble backwards.

The pain of all this was temporary and Lynx knew this, or it was something he was banking on as he still fought, elbow smashing across his opponents face. But what he hadn't counted on was losing his knife, chops fighting back with a swift and heavy handed slam to Lynx's head. But the madman had more fight in him than Chops had though, coming back with a vicious left that crossed into the heavier mans temple, the sound of cracking bone letting out a chilling crunch before he lay there on the ground, the raiders eyes closed, still breathing before his throat was swiftly crushed. Lynx had won the day, but his adrenaline was wearing off. And, he still had several wounds including the bullet hole in his stomach.


End file.
